


The Quickest Way

by Stargazer_01



Category: The Flight Attendant (TV)
Genre: Biting, Cutting, Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, F/F, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, Flirting, Kissing, Knifeplay, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Roughness, Shameless Smut, Smut, Straddling, Stress Relief, Stripping, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargazer_01/pseuds/Stargazer_01
Summary: Miranda Croft is watching Cassie in the bar when she meets Buckley and with her plans diverted once again, Miranda decides to turn her attention on... you. Then again, you have been trying to get her undivided attention since you saw her.
Relationships: Miranda Croft/Reader, Miranda Croft/You
Comments: 48
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've done a reader insert, I got a bit carried away. It may turn into more than a oneshot, I'm not sure. Depends if I keep getting inspired as the show goes on. But can we all just agree that Michelle as Miranda is ridiculously hot? Not that she isn't always anyway. Kaythanksbye.

“For the love of - FUCK.” You glared at the screen of your phone, suddenly absent of the call screen that had been connecting you to your partner. Your ex-partner now, it seemed. “Asshole.”

The people around you were staring. Too angry to be embarrassed, you stormed back to the booth that you’d been sitting at, waiting like an idiot for that asshole and dropped into your seat. 

“Fuck,” you hissed and picked up the bottle of beer you’d abandoned, bringing it to your lips. A slight movement to your right caught your eye and you almost spilled your drink down yourself. “Jesus.”

There was a woman in your booth; the dim light of the bar did nothing to conceal the cheekbones that looked like they could cut you and the raised eyebrow directed at you and your beer. 

“Um… hi. You’re in my booth.”

“It was empty.” She turned her head away from you and focused on the bar, leaving you a little bemused. 

“So… you’re just going to stay?”

Piercing eyes slipped to you again, slightly narrowed, and you felt your breath catch. 

“If that’s a problem, you can leave.”

You stare at her as she returns to watching the bar. What the fuck? 

“How do you know I’m not waiting for someone?”

Her eyelashes flutter in annoyance and you suddenly feel a thrill run through you. Without taking her eyes from the bar, she answers in a clipped tone, with what you now recognise as a Scottish lilt. 

“The whole bar heard your side of the phone call; it doesn’t sound like you’ll be expecting any company this evening.”

“My partner… well, ex now, stood me up and said they’ve met someone else.”

“Oh no, how sad.” The sarcasm and disinterest was practically dripping from her lips and you found it made you want to try to gain her attention even more. Perhaps it was because you were in shock from your sudden dumping, or maybe it was because when she looked at you, it felt like your stomach was curling in delicious heat. It reminded you of when you were younger and single, when going out was filled with possibilities and a night with someone could be decided with one look and a smile. 

She hadn’t looked at you again and was fixed on whatever it was she was over the bar. You glanced over, eyes skating over people until you spotted a pretty, blonde woman laughing with a dark-haired man. You glanced back at the woman sitting at your table; yes, these people were who she was watching. 

“Friends of yours?” No response. You took another sip of beer. “The blonde?”

She blinked. Okay, that was a reaction at least. 

“She looks nice. I mean, she also looks drunk, so-”

“-Do you ever stop talking?”

You couldn’t help the victorious smirk that tweaked at your lips as she fixed you with those eyes again. Were they blue? Grey? You couldn’t tell in the coloured lights from the dance and bar area but either way, they made your breath catch every time they fixed on you, as though she had pinned you to the seat and you couldn’t move. Still, you’d always had too much of a smart mouth and you always came alive when you found someone attractive. 

“That depends.”

“On what?” She replied snippily, glancing back to the bar. Oh no, can’t have that. 

“On whether someone is giving me better things to do than talk.”

That eyebrow twitched again and as she looked back to you it raised. What is it about that eyebrow raise that makes your insides melt into a hot puddle in your lower stomach? 

“You have a drink. Perhaps if you drown yourself in it that will keep you occupied enough.”

You ignored the way she said ‘drown yourself’, as though she were hoping you could actually drown in the bottle and die right there, and persisted. 

“I rarely have more than one, but I could be convinced if you’ll let me buy you one.”

It was the first time you’d seen her be more than composed or irritated; her lips parted slightly and you saw her chest rise and fall with the inhale. That made you glance down and see that she was wearing her coat over a shirt; it was hot in the bar and she must have been sweltering, but there wasn’t a single sign of sweat on her. 

She caught you glancing down and when you look back up there’s something new in her eyes; you weren’t sure whether it was interest or whether she’d just decided to do you bodily harm. She seemed like the kind of person that might enjoy causing a little pain. 

You bit your lip at that thought and saw her eyes flick to it. Perhaps interest then. 

“What’s your poison?” You asked. With a look that suggested that she might like to poison you, she looked back at the blonde. You chewed the inside of your mouth and nodded, once. “Alright, I can take a hint.”

You started shifting along the seat to get up and leave, perhaps to go upstairs and crash out on your bed and cry into your pillow, when you heard her speak again. 

“Scotch, neat.”

When you glanced back, she wasn’t even looking at you. 

You headed up to the bar, mulling over whether you should get her the drink or just leave her. You weren’t often in the business of having to try hard for the attention of women and to have to do so when you’d been out of the game for a while and recently dumped felt like a lot of effort. But then, you’d always like a challenge. Why find someone easy to pick up, just because the easiest way to get over someone was to get under someone else? 

“Joe,” you called, having decided. The bartender spotted you and came over, grinning. 

“What’s up boss?”

“A scotch, neat and another beer.”

He raised an eyebrow but went to get the drinks. Scotch wasn’t your ex’s drink and all the staff knew it. It wouldn’t be too long before they noticed that you were alone again. With a sigh, you turned on the bar and leaned back against it, looking at the booth again. She was still intently looking to your right and you glanced back over your shoulder. The blonde woman and the man had moved onto the dance floor and seemed to be all about a good time. You’d seen people like that before; having far too much of a good time because pretending was better than living with whatever they were trying to forget. 

“Boss?”

“Hmm?” You turned round and found Joe pushing the drinks across to you. “Thanks. Add it to my tab.”

It was your usual joke, or half-hearted attempt at it, and he gave you a small smile in response before heading back to his customers. You collected the drinks and returned to the booth, watching the woman in it the entire time.

There was something about her that was dangerous, you decided, as you slipped into the booth. That had always excited you and gotten you into trouble more times than you could count. But perhaps it wouldn’t this time; after all, it didn’t seem like she was much interested in you and even if she was, you’d just gone through a break up, so this would be a one night thing at most. 

“Scotch, neat, as requested.” You slid the glass over to her and settled in, lifting the beer to your lips and pretending you didn’t notice when she circled the top of the glass with her finger, before raising it to her nose and taking a sniff. “Don’t worry, my job is to make sure people in here don’t get spiked, not to do the spiking. And I’m not that desperate either.”

Her eyebrow quirked again and your stomach flipped as those eyes studied you, as though she were deciding whether to trust you or not. Then, slowly, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a gulp. Watching her throat bob as she swallowed was strangely captivating, but not as much as when her tongue flicked out to lick the scotch from her lips. 

You pressed your thighs together and glanced over at the blonde woman and her dance partner, more to catch your breath than out of interest. When you glanced back, feeling as though you could breathe properly, you found that she was still studying you. Your throat dry, you took a sip of beer. 

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Your job is to make sure people don’t get spiked; I was unaware that was a profession.”

She’s not stupid. She’s asking a question without asking; your lips curl into a smile that your ex had called teasing. 

“I own the bar.” Her eyes trail over you and she looks almost amused. “What? Don’t I look like a business owner?”

“You look like the owner of a bar.” Her eyes flicked back to the couple she’d been watching but her eyes didn’t linger and returned to you. Your teasing smirk grew. 

“Met many bar owners, have you? You don’t look the type.”

“I don’t look like what type?” She lifted the glass to her lips again, watching you over the rim and you resisted the urge to bite your lip. 

“You look…” you studied her, allowing your eyes to trail over what little you could see of her appreciatively. “You look like someone who doesn’t often come to places like this. I’d have said you’d be more likely to be at a high class place, in another part of town. Somewhere that isn’t packed tightly full of hot, sweaty and horny people looking to lose themselves for a night. Somewhere that people wouldn’t look out of place leaving their coats on, in.”

You raised your own eyebrow, almost challenging her. Her face was impassive, her eyes locked on yours and then, just as you thought she might go back to ignoring you, her lips twitched at the corners. She blinked and looked back to the dance floor. You glanced over as well and saw that the couple were now making out as though they wanted to rip each other’s clothes off right there and then. Snorting, you took a sip of beer and then turned back to the other woman. Her lip was curled, annoyed again as she watched the couple. 

Perhaps you’d read this wrong. Perhaps she was attracted to one of them and was upset that they were no longer available. Or maybe she had been dating one of them and had just found out they were cheating. 

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, putting your hand on the table near her. She subtly shifted away and looked at you as though nothing had happened. 

“Why?”

“You look annoyed.”

“My plans for the evening have just changed. I don’t like when that happens.”

You glanced over at the couple, who were now heading towards the door, hand in hand. 

“Something to do with them? Were you dating one of them?”

The scoff caught you off guard and you turned to face her again, curious. 

“Dating…” The little chuckle from her lips was incredulous but somehow deadly. You flashed back to your earlier thought that she was dangerous and decided you’d been right. “Do I look like I’m here to date either of those-”

Her lips curled a little, as though in disgust, and she took another sip of scotch. 

“So what are you doing here… I didn’t get your name?”

Her eyes burn you this time and you can feel your insides heating. You hadn’t realised that someone could still have this effect on you; there was an ache growing in your lower stomach and it was spreading. 

“Miranda,” she practically purred a moment later; a moment in which you thought you might actually melt under her gaze. And then, as though she had just made a decision, she unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off, letting it fall behind her. 

You introduced yourself and even more strangely, you offered your hand for her to shake. Strong, cool fingers curled around your hand and it took your brain a moment to register that it was insane that she was this cool in a hot room when she had only just removed her coat. Her eyebrow quirked again as your hands remained joined for longer than was appropriate and you withdrew, inwardly cursing yourself for getting lost in her. 

“So?” You asked after another sip of beer because, again, your throat was dry. 

“So, what?” She seemed to have relaxed a little, as though, after the frustration she had felt about the couple had died down, she was less distracted. Perhaps that was because now, her focus was on you. You shivered at the thought. 

“What made you come here tonight? I doubt it was for our music.”

“Perhaps it was for your scotch.”

You felt your stomach flip again; her tone had changed and it was almost teasing now. You leaned in a little, going with your instincts. 

“Not many people here ask for scotch; if they did, I’d stock the stuff I have in my apartment here, instead of what you’re drinking.”

“So you keep the good stuff for yourself,” Miranda’s tone had lowered, you were sure of it; you had to lean closer to hear her over the music. 

“And for guests.”

That time she definitely smirked. Her fingers played with the glass in front of her, as though she were working out her next move as she studied you. 

“Do you often have guests?”

“No,” you replied quickly, and when she raised her eyebrow, you realised it was too quick. “Not anymore. You heard my break up; it’s been a while since I’ve been in a position to have… guests.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, loud enough for you to hear. She picked up the glass, swirled the contents, and drank them back. When the glass returned to the table, she collected her coat from behind her and slid around the booth seat as though to leave. 

“You’re going?” You couldn’t help but be disappointed; she was leaving just when you thought you’d been getting somewhere. 

“Yes,” she replied, standing. You briefly took in the smart outfit she was wearing, understated and yet stylish; her shirt had buttons that made your fingers twitch. You stood too. 

“Well, I’m sorry about that. I hope it wasn’t anything I said?”

“Oh it was precisely something you said.” She leaned in close; for a moment you thought she would kiss you, but her breath skimmed your cheek as she brought her lips close to your ear. “Invite me for a glass of your scotch.”

You swallowed, eyelids heavy as she withdrew. Her voice did something to you; you realised too late that you were definitely in some kind of trouble. Every atom of your being wanted her and every drop of survival instinct told you to run, as though she were a predator and you had just become prey. 

“Would you like to come back to my place for… a drink?”

“Lead the way.”

That time, you couldn’t stop yourself from biting your lip. Her eyes flicked to where your teeth were digging in and you felt that ache between your thighs. When you spoke, your voice was hoarse. 

“Sure. This way.”

It wasn’t far to your apartment, just upstairs in fact, but it felt like it took forever to climb the stairs because you had been so aware of the heat of her stare behind you. When your key slid into the lock, you opened the door hurriedly and held it open for her. She looked you over and then stepped inside; you followed quickly. 

“So, that scotch.” She paused as you passed her, heading for the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable; I won’t be long.”

You rifled through the cupboards and pulled out two glasses and the bottle of the best scotch you had. Normally you would only have two drinks maximum, but you hadn’t finished your second beer and there was no way you could sit there and not drink while she did. She’d probably think you’d slipped something in it. 

When you turned around with the glasses, you found her leaning against the kitchen counter, studying you closely. Her eyes trailed up and you could feel the blush tinting your cheeks; you tried to cover for it by handing over the scotch with a smile. Your fingers brushed as the glass changed hands and you found your lips parting as a tingle shot up your arm from the contact.   
You watched as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck…” You blinked; had those words really left your lips? Yes, they had and the smirk on Miranda’s face made that clear. You felt your cheeks heat. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologising? Is that not what you invited me for?” She put down the scotch on the counter and slowly stepped closer. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, although they were starting to ache, wanting to become lidded and heavy with desire. “Or did you really think I was interested in your scotch?”

You put your own glass down. 

“I don’t like to make assumptions.”

“Hmm.” The way she hummed sent a buzzing thrill over your skin and you bit your lip. “If you bite your lip one more time, I’m going to bite it for you.”

Your teeth released your lip with an intake of breath and the smirk on her lips was worth it. You decided to be brave. 

“So do it.” You challenged her, raising your eyebrow. That chuckle spilled from her lips and it was like watching hot fudge sauce drizzled on a cake; too tempting to resist. You leaned in until your noses were brushing and your breath was mingling with hers. 

“Say. Please.” God, she was driving you wild but you weren’t willing to give her the upper hand just yet. 

“Make me.”

She smirked hard and that thrill ran through you again. You were pretty sure now that if she were to slip her hand inside your underwear right now, her fingers would find you drenched. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said make m-” Before you even had time to register what was happening, she had her hand around your throat and you were backed against the wall; thudding into it and gasping. 

“Do you want to try that again?” You nodded your head hard and slowly she withdrew her hand. “Good girl.”

You bit your lip again unconsciously; the phrase normally did little to nothing for you but hearing it from her… Her eyes slid down to your lip with a smirk and you released your lip, but this time, it was to accept defeat. 

“Please.”

“Please, what?” She drew out the last word and you shivered. 

“Please, kiss me.”

She leaned in and her nose brushed yours again, but this time there was no hovering and teasing. The kiss was victorious and dominating, her lips bruising yours as she claimed you. Your hands fell to her waist and held onto her for dear life, the kiss making you feel as though you might float away if you weren’t anchored by her lips and the fingers that had threaded themselves into your hair to hold you in place. 

As she pulled away, giving both of you a chance to catch your breath, she pulled your bottom lip between her teeth, making you whimper. 

She released you and stepped away, leaving you panting from the force of her. You watched, wanting, as she picked her glass up from the counter delicately and walked over to the sofa, turning around and lowering herself elegantly onto it, crossing one leg over the other. 

You waited, until she arched an eyebrow and beckoned with two curling fingers for you to approach. You left your glass behind and stepped closer until she held up her hand to stop you, a couple of feet from her. 

“Take off your clothes.” You hesitated, not sure you’d heard her correctly. She arched her eyebrow. “I’m waiting.”

You swallowed thickly and raised your hands to your shirt, undoing the first button and going for the second quickly; hands trembling with want. Her smirk was almost permanent as she watched and you slowed down, wanting that expression to last. As you pulled your shirt out of your trousers to unbutton the last few, she beckoned you close. 

Having regained some of your confidence, watching the way she undressed you with her eyes which had darkened, you flicked the bottom of the shirt to the sides as you undid the last button, letting it hang at your sides, exposing your stomach and breasts in the black lace bra you had on. 

Miranda lifted her leg off the other so they lay parallel and, fueled by the desire to have her hands on you again, you straddled her without her direction, steadying yourself on the back of the sofa. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips and her hands closed on your hips, holding you in place. 

“My, we are sure of ourselves, aren’t we?”

Hoping that she will hold you on her lap, you took your hands from the back of the sofa to allow your shirt to drop to the floor behind you. You returned your hands to the sofa, which pushed your breasts closer to her face and allowed you to look down at her with heavy-lidded desire. 

“You like being in control, don’t you?” You leaned in, teasing as though you were planning to kiss her, but halting at the last moment, allowing your breath to tickle her lips before pulling back a little with a smirk. “Have you ever let someone else take the lead?”

A flicker of doubt passed through her eyes so quickly that you thought you’d imagined it. Her eyes were steely and hard now, staring you down. 

“No and I don’t intend to start now.”

“That’s okay,” you murmured. “I’m flexible.”

“You’re frustratingly cheeky,” she said sharply and you bit your lip. “What did I say about that lip?”

“Oh, was I not clear?” You leaned back a little, smirking. “I like when you bite me.”

She hooked her finger under the edge of your bra, between your breasts, and dragged you into a kiss that was all teeth, tongue and ownership. You could hear yourself moaning into it and then again as she bit your lip, hard enough that, when she released you, your tongue darted out to check for blood. 

You were distracted though, as her lips began to mark their way down your neck and chest and your hips twitched as she sucked on your pulse point. 

“Uhhh…” You were sure that if this continued that you were going to fall backwards onto the floor and it wouldn’t be elegant, but you didn’t want her to stop. You were going to be marked, you knew that too, but you didn’t care. You felt her fingers on your waistband and the popping of the button and you gasped when she bit you through your bra. “Fuck.”

“Impatient.”

Cool fingers traced over your hips, up your waist and around to your back to remove the bra in one sure twist. You threw it to one side and tangled your fingers in her hair, pulling out the clip at the back and letting it drop somewhere behind the sofa before fisting soft hair and dragging her back into another passionate kiss. 

It was about this time that you became aware that if you didn’t move, you were going to be naked on the sofa and she would likely still be dressed, so when your lips parted with a delicious tearing sound, you slowly stood and held out your hand to her. She cocked an eyebrow at you. 

  
“I’m… showing you the bedroom?” You had never felt so unsure of yourself before; those eyes had an effect on you and your legs were trembling a little under you; overwhelmed by the desire coursing through you. 

She stood, smoothing down her trousers and indicated for you to move. She did not take your hand and your fingers felt strangely bereft after so much contact with her in the last few minutes. Every inch of you wanted to fuse with her; feel her skin against yours and have her between your legs. 

You had barely made it inside your room before your front was pressed against the wall and you gasped as she bent your arm behind your back. 

“Fuck, what-”

“When I asked if you ever stopped talking, you said only if someone gave you something better to do with that smart mouth of yours.” She bit your shoulder and you gave a whimpering moan as her tongue flicked over the mark she had no doubt left. “So prove it.”

She pulled you back, your shoulder protesting at the angle she was holding your arm in and you found yourself being pushed onto your bed. Arm free, you twisted onto your back and watched as she kicked off her shoes and began to take off her trousers without hesitation; deft fingers making quick work of the clasp. 

When she stepped out of her trousers and underwear, leaving herself in her shirt that barely covered her, your breath caught again. Slim, toned legs prowled towards you and then she was straddling you; you sat up, wanting to kiss her again, only to be pushed down. She kept her hand on your chest, pinning you down and you could feel the wetness in your underwear becoming uncomfortable. 

Once she was sure you’d stay down, her short nails scratched lines down your chest and stomach, making you arch into her. Your eyes never left her, consumed by her and the desire to touch her. Your hands hovered, desperate to touch the thighs that had your hips pinned down. And then she was crawling and you realised seconds before she straddled your face what was happening. 

You groaned when you saw the patch of hair as she lowered herself down, her fingers burying themselves into your hair as you gladly proved that your mouth was good for more than just talking. 

You could smell her arousal before you tasted it, and when your tongue slid up her entrance the first time you collected it on your tongue with delight. You wondered how long she had been getting wet for. Since you straddled her? Since the kiss? Since you met? 

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” Her fingers scratched against your scalp as she pulled your hair and you moaned into her before sucking at her clit desperately. You wanted to reach your hand down and slide it inside your trousers; touch yourself as you buried yourself in her. But as you moved your hand, it brushed against her leg and you changed tactic, running your fingers up the back of her thighs and pulling her hips into your further. Her fingers tightened in your hair but the moan that escaped her lips above you told you that she approved. 

The taste of her, the smell of her, filled your senses and you could feel her beginning to tremble above you. It wouldn’t be long and you would be able to taste your reward as she came in your mouth… she lifted herself away from your mouth and you moaned, trying to follow her. Her fingers held you down by your hair. 

“What-”

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

You opened your mouth, ready to test the boundaries but the way she looked at you told you that it wouldn’t end well. You clamped your lips shut and stared up at her through pleading eyes; pupils blown wide. She studied you for a moment with a raised eyebrow and then she lowered herself down again.

Immediately you tightened your hold around her hips and re-doubled your efforts, determined to drive her over the edge before she could stop you again. You almost missed the dark chuckle above you as her thighs tightened around your head and you sucked hard on her clit; sending the chuckle tumbling into a choked moan. The thrill of victory, so close, spurred you on and you sucked again, letting your tongue lap at her as soon as you were done. She was trembling on top of you now and you could think of nothing better than to watch this woman come apart above you. 

She leaned back a little and looked down at you, fingers tightening in your hair again as she rocked against you. God those eyes; you could drown in those eyes. They would likely be the death of you. 

And then her eyes rolled and her lips parted and she was coming apart above you and you could only watch and help her ride it out on your tongue as her entire body shook with the force of it. Your scalp was starting to hurt with how hard she was pulling on your hair but it only made you wetter and by the time she was looking down at you, the last wave of orgasm rolling through her, you were desperate. 

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured against her and pressed a soft, almost tender, kiss to her inner thigh. She blinked. You turned your head and pressed another kiss to the other thigh, watching her brows furrow. Then she was gone; the mattress moving as she swung one leg to the side and climbed off you. You leaned up and watched as she slid from the bed and bent down, picking up her clothes. “Miranda?”

She glanced back at you and her eyes were cold and disconnected, like they had been downstairs when you had first met. Then, without a word, she headed for the door. Your mouth fell open as you watched her disappear into the other room; what the fuck? 

Scrambling to your feet on shaky legs, you followed. She was by the sofa, her trousers back on, picking up her coat. 

“Miranda, what happened?” She started walking towards the door and without thinking you reached out for her arm. 

When you found yourself pressed against the wall a moment later, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. What was, was the knife you could feel pressed against your throat. 

“Shit! What…” Your throat bobbed against the sharpness as you swallowed and you were reminded this is what was dangerous about inviting strangers into your home. You found yourself thinking that at least if you were murdered, the bar staff would find you pretty quickly. 

“Don’t fucking touch what’s not yours,” she hissed and despite the danger of the situation, you realised that it was just making you wetter. 

“Fuck…” It came out as an almost moan and your eyes flitted down to her lips, your teeth biting into your own lip again. Her eyebrow arched and a smirk curled on her lips. 

“This turns you on, doesn’t it?” You looked at her and you knew the answer was written on your face. “Shall we see how much?”

You felt her fingers, still impossibly cool, flatten against your stomach and then dip under the waistband of your trousers. You tensed, waiting for the moment that she’d feel your wetness. She paused at the edge of your underwear and you breathed in hard, feeling the knife still. She studied you, still smirking and you realised that she was waiting for you to beg. At this point, you would have done anything. 

“Please… fuck me.”

Her fingers slipped inside your underwear and skated over hot, wet folds, circling your clit with the lightest of touches that made your hips jerk. You were desperate to not move too much; the potential of the knife to slice through your neck was still in the forefront of your mind. You felt it prick you as Miranda’s fingers moved against your clit again and you shuddered, hard enough that you pressed into the sharp surface. 

She tutted slowly and the sound made your throat dry, but when the knife was removed and her tongue flattened against your throat, licking up, you realised that she had spilled blood and was tasting you. The ragged inhale of breath from you only seemed to make her smirk more and the knife returned to your throat. 

“Now don’t move. I’d hate to mark that pretty neck permanently.” The moan escaped before you could stop it and her victorious smirk made your hips rut against her hand. She stilled it and then, when you were still again, she pressed her palm against your clit and slid two fingers inside. “My, you are wet, aren’t you pet?”

Another moan escaped you as her fingers curled and she ground her palm into you. 

“Yes…”

“All for me?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm.” The knife began to move downwards and, as you felt the tip slide between your breasts she curled her fingers inside you again. It took every inch of your control not to arch into that wave of pleasure because if you did, you had a feeling the blade would slip inside and you weren’t sure if she’d call an ambulance or just leave you there to bleed out. “Good girl. See, you can control yourself.”

Another finger slid inside you and had you gasping; she let the knife trail back up until it rested against your throat again as her fingers began a rough pace, sliding in and out of you aggressively. Your eyes slid closed, against your better judgement, as she curled her fingers again and when they didn’t reopen you heard a bang next to your head that made you start and your eyes fly open. 

The knife was buried in the wall and as you blinked at it, lips parted, she released the handle and left it there, taking your chin in her hand and turning your head back to face her. Her fingers curled again and your mouth flew open again, but this time you didn’t look away. In this light, her eyes were insanely blue, although her pupils were blown so wide that the colour was merely a frame for the darkness. They swallowed you whole as you grew closer and closer to the edge and your breath came in short, sharp bursts. 

“Fuck… fuck…” Just as you felt like you were going to explode, her fingers stilled inside you and the whine that escaped from you dragged out into a whimper. “Why?”

“I didn’t say you could come, did I?”

“No, but-”

“You won’t come until I say so.”

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but the words were out of your mouth before your survival instinct could kick in. 

“Bite me.” It came out as defiant and bold, but the moment you realised what you had said you trembled. Something flashed in her eyes and you remembered again, too late, that she was a stranger, with a knife, in your apartment. 

“If you insist,” her voice husked and then her fingers began to slide in and out again, roughly, as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your throat.You stilled, knowing it was going to happen, knowing that she wouldn’t say that if she didn’t intend to do it. Her lips trailed down your throat and you wondered if she was leaving what was left of her lipstick on your skin. The thought distracted you, imagining those thin lips leaving red marks across you and that was why, when she bit into the soft skin between your neck and your shoulder hard, you yelped in surprise. You could feel her sucking the skin but before you could yelp again, her fingers curled and your eyes were rolling back into your head. 

“Fuck…” If she didn’t let you come soon you might die. 

“Come on, you can do better than that.” Her voice was rough and for a moment you wondered what her reaction would be if you undid her trousers and slid your fingers inside her; would she appreciate it? Remembering the knife, buried in the wall next to your head, you decided to restrain yourself for now. 

“Wha-ahhh!” You cried out, hands scrambling for support against the flat wall. “Please… please…”

“Louder,” she moaned into your ear and you almost came from the sound of her and the tickle of warm air against your skin. “I want your neighbours to hear you scream.”

Her palm rubbed roughly against you again and her fingers curled and you were so close… 

“Please.” You weren’t sure if you were even intelligible at this point, practically delirious from the heat coursing through you, every fibre of you ready to shatter into a thousand pieces. 

“Come for me,” she demanded and pulled her head back in time to watch you climax, impossibly tight around her fingers, feeling them stroking you through each wave as you screamed and then slumped against her, quivering. 

You weren’t exactly sure how long you’d been trying to get your breath under control, your face buried against her hair and neck, your throat and lips try and sore from the scream that had been wrenched from you by the force of your orgasm. But when you felt her slide her fingers out of you and wipe them on your stomach and your trousers, you managed to raise your head weakly, nose brushing her jaw.

“Stay,” you whispered hoarsely, although you could already feel her slipping away, despite her not moving. She stilled and you let your nose brush further against her, before you pressed a kiss to the hard line of her jaw. “Please.”

“I have work to do.” She shifted and you had to steady yourself against the wall as she moved away, putting some distance between the two of you. 

You couldn’t help but stare at her, taking in every line and curve of her. She arched her eyebrow and then stepped forward, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss to your parched and bruised lips that was more tender than any she had given you so far. Then, as you pulled apart, she put her hand on the handle of the knife and pulled it from the wall, leaving a hole and sending crumbs of plaster to the floor. You watched as she picked up her coat, shrugged it on and put the knife into her pocket. Only when she was almost at the door did she look back over her shoulder, as though she had second thoughts. Your heart rate picked up hopefully. 

“Perhaps I’ll visit you again.”

“I… would like that.”

Her lips curled into a smirk. 

“Oh I know, pet.”

With that, she was gone, leaving you alone in your apartment to sink onto the floor on legs that could no longer hold you up. You let your head fall back against the wall and inhaled roughly. 

“Holy fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler for TFA episode 4: 
> 
> This is set after Victor has visited Miranda. She's feeling frustrated and looking for release, without having to give up any control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shorter than the last, but I've got a 3rd chapter planned, and I didn't want to compile the two.

The knock on your door was brisk and impatient and you groaned. Your fingers were buried inside you, slick and hot, and you were going to kill the bar staff for interrupting you. Perhaps they would go away if you ignored them; perhaps it wasn’t urgent. 

You curled your fingers again, biting your lip as you remembered the other evening; imagining Miranda’s fingers were the ones inside you. 

The knock came again and you gritted your teeth to prevent from yelling ‘fuck off’ at the door. If they were still there, it was urgent. Growling, you slid your fingers out of yourself and wiped them on the cushion next to you, clambering off of the sofa on shaky legs and stumbling to the door. 

“This better be important, I swear to god-” you glanced through the peephole and froze. Fuck. You pulled the door open and Miranda’s eyes scanned you coolly, taking in your tank top and shorts. 

“Well,” she purred. “If you don’t want me here, I can leave.” 

“No!” It escaped your lips so quickly you couldn’t even attempt to be smooth. You stepped back, opening the door further. “Please, come in.”

The smirk on her lips made another gush of wetness pool between your legs, joining what had already been there from just the thought of her. She passed you and you inhaled the scent of her as she brushed lightly against your front. 

Miranda stopped behind the sofa, her hands in her pockets. You eyed them, wondering if one contained the knife from before. You saw her eyes take in the hole that you hadn’t quite been able to bring yourself to fill since her last visit and her eyes flicked to you. 

“Yeah, I… haven’t had the time to fill it.”

“You’re lying.” There was a deadly certainty in her tone and it made you shiver. 

“I’m… being flexible with the truth. I could have made time.” It felt like her eyes could see straight through you; as though you were naked to her in every way. “What made you come back?”

It was evidently the wrong question because her lips thinned and she eyed you as though you’d just asked her if she liked to eat dirt. 

“You’re talkative again.”

You smirked and slipped closer slowly, biting your lip. 

“Well you know how to deal with that.” 

“There are several ways I could deal with that,” she replied, her tone hard. You blinked, halting, wondering if you’d misread the situation. It was then that you noticed her rigid posture and pinched face; she was quite clearly stressed. You softened immediately. 

“Are you okay? Something you want to talk about?” Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re not big into sharing feelings. Do you want a drink? Some of that scotch you barely had last time?”

“I want what I had last time,” she replied. 

“Alright then.” You went to pass her to go to the drinks cupboard, but her gloved hand wrapped around your wrist and then you were backed against the wall. “Miranda, what-”

“I said,” she hissed. “I want what I had last time.”

She kicked your legs apart and pressed her knee between them, making you inhale sharply. You’d already been turned on and now… 

“Fuck, Miranda…” You ground into her thigh until her hand wrapped around your neck, halting you. The leather felt soft and cool against your skin and you bit your lip, trying hard not to move your hips. 

“You smell like sex. What were you doing before I got here?”

You whimpered and clenched your muscles, feeling the wetness growing as she grabbed your hand and sniffed the fingers that had been inside you only five minutes ago. She opened her mouth, drew them into her and sucked and you moaned, watching her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she pulled your fingers free and dropped your wrist, returning her hand to your throat. 

“I was-”

“Oh I know what you were doing,” Miranda hissed. “Naughty, naughty girl. Were you thinking of me?”

“Yes,” you whimpered. 

“How close were you, when I knocked?”

“Not close enough,” you moaned, unable to stop your hips rocking against her again. 

The smirk on her lips was satisfied and predatory, and when she flexed her hand against your throat, your breath caught reflexively. Her eyes trailed over your face, then slipped to the dark bruise that still marked your skin between your neck and shoulder. Her smirk grew and she ran her tongue over her lip before biting it; you felt your hips flex again, wishing she was biting you. 

Her hand moved from your neck and gathered a handful of your tank top, yanking you away from the wall and pulling you to the sofa where she pushed you onto it. 

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Put on a show for me.”

You watched as she moved to the seat opposite, taking off her coat and dropping it onto the back, before sitting and crossing one leg over the other. You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you slid your hand under the waistband of your shorts again and found new heat and wetness between your thighs. The little gasp escaped you before you could get control and you saw Miranda’s lips twitch in another smirk. 

It was easy, with her there, to find your rhythm again. Her eyes burned into you, spreading heat across your skin as your hips lifted into your hand. You were too wet; the sounds of you making you bite your lip, hard. You were panting hard and you opened your legs wider, adding another finger that made you whimper and arch in your seat. It wouldn’t take long; you were so full, so ready and with her looking at you like she would devour you, the climax approached. 

“Stop.”

“FUCK.” The rush of frustration that ran through you at how quickly you had responded to her felt like every muscle in your body had locked solid. Miranda looked amused as you glared at her. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Where did you get the impression that I’m nice?” She asked, her eyes trailing over you, to where your hand still hovered inside your shorts. “The last time I was here, I wasn’t nice at all.”

Your eyes widened as her hand reappeared and the butterfly knife flicked around her hand until the blade that you recognised was out. She raised it in front of her, inspecting it, before looking at you and smirking again. 

“In fact, I rather got the impression that you liked that I wasn’t nice.”

“I-”

“Start again,” she gestured at your hand, buried inside your shorts, with the knife. Your fingers slid inside almost reflexively and you hissed in a breath. “You were thinking about this, weren’t you? About the way I held your life in my hands and it made you want me even more.”

Your hips thrust into your hand and you whimpered.

“Yes…”

“You didn’t know me; I could have killed you easily and left you there and no one would have known…” The knife, coming to life in her hand again, made a swish and a click on each rotation. “That shows a very bad sense of self preservation.”

“Or a good one,” you moaned, grinding your palm into your clit as you curled your fingers. The conversation had turned a little deadly and part of you wondered why you were still touching yourself when she had just suggested she could have killed you, but you knew that to stop would hurt and you were so close… “It seems like...a good idea… to submit to someone… holding a knife to your throat.”

“You could have fought to protect yourself.”

“If I hadn’t just… eaten you out… then I would have.”

“I doubt that, pet.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, the knife still in one hand. “I think you’d have begged me.”

“For… what?” You were so close; the pressure building up inside you threatened to break any moment and you weren’t sure you’d be responsible for your actions if she stopped you now. 

“To let you.”

“Let… me… what?”

“Come for me.”

The words sent you over the edge and with a loud cry, you arched into your fingers as they curled one last time, your head falling over the back of the sofa; stars sparkling across your vision. You were quivering, your feet barely holding on to their position on the floor; you were in danger of slipping to the ground in a puddle. 

As you gasped for breath, you felt the sofa cushion move slightly and lifted your head enough to see Miranda throw her other leg over you and lower herself to straddle you. You tried to untangle the thoughts in your brain to remember how to speak, but then her lips, teeth and tongue began to remind your neck how it felt to be devoured, and all you could do was gasp again. You knew she could practically taste your erratic pulse through your neck and when she flattened her tongue against your pulse point and licked along it, your heart-rate increased to a gallop so fast that you began to wonder if you might pass out. Your fingers were still buried inside you, trapped under her and they twitched as she found the bruise from before and licked it. 

“Miranda…” The moan escaped you and then she clamped her mouth on the bruise. The pain was delicious and your hips twitched, making you whimper as you tightened around your fingers again. “Oh god…”

Her lips moved from and feather-light, teasing kisses peppered your neck, up to your ear, where her hot breath brushed against your skin, making you shiver. 

“How many times have you touched yourself since that night thinking about me?”

The shuddering breath you inhaled drew a throaty chuckle from her which caressed your ear before her teeth claimed the lobe for her mouth. Your eyes rolled and you struggled to focus on your answer. 

“I… a few… I haven’t… oh god, I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“Naughty girl,” her tongue traced the edge of your ear and then leather-clad fingers were grazing your stomach, lifting your tank top as they trailed upwards. When they reached your breasts, she drew back and made short work of pulling it off, exposing your heated skin to the cool air. Your nipples hardened to a point of almost pain and as she cupped your breasts she rolled them between her fingers. You leaned up, hoping for a kiss, but she smirked and dropped to your other ear to repeat the treatment the other had received. 

“I want you…” You moaned, moving the hand that wasn’t trapped to tangle in her hair. She nipped at your jaw and your hips rolled; your fingers flexed inside you again and you wondered if she wanted you to start fucking yourself again with her on top. To test the theory, you flexed your fingers again, feeling your wrist pressing into her. She ground down and you hissed as your fingers were driven into the knuckle. “Fuck!”

“Such a naughty mouth,” she murmured into your ear and then she pulled your nipples sharply; your hips jerked again. 

“Fuck, Miranda.”

“So impatient.” One hand left your breasts and she pulled back, lifting her hips slightly. Your wrist relaxed and she reached down and wrapped her hand around your arm, pulling. Reluctantly, you slid your fingers out, wincing, and then the cool air hit their slickness, making you shiver. 

Miranda studied your fingers with a smirk, her eyes dark and then her lips opened and she raised your fingers, taking one into her mouth and rolling her tongue around it. You watched, transfixed, as she sucked them clean one by one, even flicking her tongue between them to clean where they joined. It was intense and your hips rolled into hers every time her tongue caressed the skin between your fingers. 

When your fingers were clean of you, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips, flicking her tongue over them to demand access. You complied immediately and your senses were filled with her and the taste of you, mingled. She tangled her gloved fingers in your hair, allowing you no movement until you were desperate for breath. When she leaned back, leaving you gasping, the red lipstick she’d been wearing was smudged and you raised a thumb to clean it. Her head jolted back, away and she eyed you warily. 

“Lipstick,” you murmured, freezing with your hand still outstretched, trying to show that you meant no harm. “Let me… please.”

Her eyes darted down to your lips and she raised her eyebrow, before a small nod, almost unnoticeable, gave you permission. You let your thumb slowly trace the edges of her lips but couldn’t help pressing her bottom lip further, bringing it down and feeling the exhale from her as you did. Your hand slid into her hair again and you tried to guide her into another kiss, which to your surprise, she allowed. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were guarded again and you watched as she put the end of her glove into her mouth and pulled it off, repeating the gesture with the other before dropping them to the side. She lifted her hips and undid the clasp of her trousers, slipping the zipper down. You watched, transfixed, as her hand slid inside the hint of black lace you could see there. 

“Fuck…” the whisper left your lips without you even noticing as her hips began to move in rhythm with the flex of the muscles in her arm. She was looking down at you intently, and her lips parted as she breathed a heavy sigh; eyelashes fluttering. The feel of her moving against you made you ache; you want her naked and pressed against you more than anything, but you hadn’t seen her fully undressed yet and you had the feeling that she didn’t like the vulnerability it provided. Still… 

Slowly, in full view of her watchful eyes, you moved your hands up her hips and hooked your thumbs under the black shirt. Her hips stilled and so did you, looking up at her for permission. When her eyelashes fluttered again, you moved your hands upward slowly, taking the shirt with you. When you couldn’t move it any further, her arms hindering you, she removed the hand from inside her trousers and lifted the shirt off herself. It caught around her head momentarily, which you find endearing, but when she emerged she was clearly irritated by it. Your eyes dropped to her torso and you bit your lip. 

Her skin was smooth and pale, smatterings of freckles faintly adorning her. Her breasts were covered in black lace, but you could see the faintest hint of a rosy nipple behind each cup that made you long to have your mouth on them. Instead, you trailed your eyes down to her stomach; toned but soft with age. Breathless, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her stomach, hands on her hips, holding her to the softness of your touch. You could feel her tensing under you, but continued to press soft kisses across her belly, until her fingers tangled in your hair and pulled your head back. She gazed down at you with heavy, lidded eyes and then you were pushed back against the sofa and her hand was slipping inside her underwear again. 

She rolled against her hand and you bit your lip harder and harder, until a little gasp from her lips sent blood spilling from yours, leaving the taste of copper in your mouth. She leaned down and captured your mouth in a kiss, pulling away with a drop of red on her lips that her tongue flicked out to lick up. You groaned and your fingers dug into her hips.   
Watching Miranda come above you was… you weren’t quite sure how to describe it. You only knew that watching this controlled, tightly wound woman come apart was something akin to a religion, and you’d never wanted to worship more. Her chest heaved, a pink tinge across the skin and her eyelashes fluttered as her mouth opened in a moan that sent another wave of arousal through you. You held tight to her, afraid that she would fall backwards with the force of it, but after a moment, she sank further onto your lap and smirked at you, pulling her fingers from inside her. She went to wipe them on her trousers but you caught her hand, earning a stern look. 

“Please… I want to taste you again.” The smirk returned to her lips slowly and she nodded. 

You opened your mouth and took two fingers in. You could feel another, slick with her, leaving juices against your chin as you sucked and licked the ones in your mouth. You took great care, imitating her and flicking your tongue between her fingers as you slid them out of your mouth. Her eyes were darker than you could have imagined and they just made you smirk as you revelled in the taste of her. So sweet…

She pulled her fingers from you and gripped your chin; lifting it sharply. 

“Until next time.” She pressed her lips to yours, claiming them and preventing the protest you had been about to make. When she released you, she smirked. “This time, don’t touch yourself. I want you desperate by the time I decide to take you again.”

You whimpered. 

“When will that be exactly?”

“When I feel like it.” She arched her eyebrow. “Or, are you saying that I’m not motivating enough incentive to wait?”

Immediately you shook your head, hard. 

“No, you are.”

“Good girl.” 

The compliment brushed across your lips on her breath and then she was standing and you were left cold and alone on the sofa as she collected her belongings. 

“Please… stay.” You tried, much like you had last time, but she shook her head, pulling on the shirt again and then her gloves. 

“No. I have work to do.”

“You said that last time.”

“Don’t get clingy,” she said sharply, turning to look at you as she picked up her coat. “You’re a good distraction, some stress relief, nothing more. If you want something else, tell me now and you’ll never see me again.”

Your lips parted and you debated. You enjoyed this; it wasn’t the first time you’d had casual and convenient sex with someone. But normally you knew a little more about them, could contact them and normally they weren’t so cruel when you tried to talk afterwards. There were moments of softness in her; you’d seen them, tonight especially. You couldn’t help but want her to care, just a little. You didn’t like to think she could just do this with anyone else. But she could. She might already be. The thought made your stomach churn and you realised in dismay that the thought made you jealous. 

“I’m not trying to make this something it isn’t,” you replied, slightly sharper than you’d meant to. “I’m well aware that I’m nothing to you.”

“So what do you want?”

“I don’t know.” You hissed, frustrated. “A heads up you were coming over would have been nice. Then maybe I could’ve thought about it.”

She studied you briefly and then wrapped the coat around herself, pulling the belt of it tight. You deflated on the sofa as she strode towards the door and you heard it slam. 

“Fuck.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I believe this to be the last chapter of this, but definitely not my last Miranda Croft work. I hope you enjoy.

You dragged your feet up the stairs and sagged against the door, fumbling with the key and cursing when you failed to get it in the lock on the first go. When it finally opened, you stumbled through it, kicking it closed behind you and heading straight for the sofa, collapsing on it. 

“Fucking hell…” you buried your head in the cushion and groaned. Work had been relentless and it was way too late to be considered acceptable, for most people that is. 

You knew that if you didn’t get off the sofa, you were going to end up sleeping there, but your entire body felt like lead and even the idea of a shower couldn’t motivate you to lift your head. 

There was a buzzing sound coming from somewhere near your hip and you groaned, lifting your hips to shove your hand into the pocket and yank out your phone. 

Your ex’s number lit up the screen. 

“Fuck that,” you hissed, declining. It rang again. Gritting your teeth, you pressed decline again and then turned off your phone. “Not in the mood.”

Irritation fuelling you now, you crawled to your feet and tumbled towards the bedroom. A shower could wait and, pending any emergencies, you didn’t need to go to the bar tomorrow. You fell face first into your pillow and slept immediately. 

***

It was already late when you woke, the setting sun shining on your face and making you blink. You yawned and grabbed your phone to check the time, only to find it off. Cursing, you turned it on and plugged it in to charge then stood up and headed for the shower. 

When you emerged, feeling better with your wet hair sticking to your face and neck and just your underwear on, you grabbed your phone and headed into the kitchen. There were two missed calls from your ex and a couple of texts. Rolling your eyes, you decided to deal with that after food. 

Forty minutes later, plates washed and hair still damp but no longer dripping, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through, yawning and half paying attention. 

Answer, please.

I just want to talk. 

Babe…

Tonight, your apartment. 

You groaned and put down your phone, running your hands through your hair. If she was really going to show up, perhaps you should make an effort; show her what she was missing. But then again, if you did that it might tell her that you wanted her back, and you found that you really didn’t. You knew that it would have been different if you’d been left to wallow in self pity, but you’d barely been dumped before you were being fucked by Miranda…

Danm, Miranda. Your muscles clenched at just the thought of her. You hadn’t touched yourself since that night, although you desperately wanted to. You’d woken from so many dreams of her with your thighs slick and almost slipped your hand between your legs to feel the result, before remembering her instructions. How long would you have to wait? What if she never came back? At some point, you would have to make a choice, but for now, the delicious ache was such sweet torture. 

Shaking yourself, you grabbed the phone and decided to at least get into clean pyjamas, instead of continuing to wander around in your underwear. 

***

The knock on the door made you sigh and you got up from the sofa, ready to face your ex. 

“Hey,” she smiled, nervously, as you opened the door and raised your eyebrow at her. 

“So, I ignore your calls and texts and I get a house visit?”

She frowned. 

“I just want to talk.”

“I don’t owe you anything after the way you ended things.”

“Please. Just… hear me out?”

You studied her and then rolled your eyes. 

“Fine. You can come in but not for long. I want to go to bed.”

The door closed and she chewed her lip; you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach 

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Oh?” You folded your arms. “What for? Breaking up with me? Doing it over the phone?”

She frowned, opening her mouth as though to argue and then shutting it. 

“That was… I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“A mistake?”

“Yes. I thought… I never say you anymore and I thought I had a better chance with… someone else.”

“So there’s someone else?”

“No… No there’s no one else.”

You studied her closely and she shifted under your gaze, eyes not quite meeting yours. 

“But there was when you broke up with me?” She didn't reply, but the look on her face was answer enough. “Wow. They dumped you, didn’t they? And that’s why you’re here.”

“Oh, come on, babe… I made a mistake.” She bit her lip, restraining herself as you let out an indignant chuckle. “Please… you love me. You can’t say you haven’t missed me.”

“Actually, I haven’t.”

“Liar.” She stepped closer. “I bet you’ve missed me a lot. I bet if I showed you what you’ve been missing…”

“I haven’t missed-” There was a knocking on the door that made it rattle and you slipped away, just as she made to move into your personal space. “Uh, I’d better get that.”

You opened the door, mentally promising that whichever employee it was, was getting a pay rise. 

“Miranda!”

The smirk on her face lasted only a few seconds, before her eyes slid to a point over your shoulder and became hard. 

“It appears you have company.”

“Actually, she was just leavi-”

“-Who are you?”

Your ex’s voice cut through your words and made Miranda’s eyebrow arch.

“I believe I should be asking you that question.”

Your breath caught as Miranda stepped forward; a thrill ran across your skin, sending goosebumps pebbling and drying your throat. 

“I’m her girlfriend and-”

“-Ex-girlfriend,” you interrupted. Miranda’s eyebrow arched even further and her lips twitched. 

The scoff from behind you drew both of your attention to your ex, who was looking Miranda up and down with distaste. 

“Babe, please don’t tell me that you missed me so much that you’ve started dating…” she pursed her lips. “Well… her.”

You felt the change in the air; the subtle chill. Your stomach clenched and you turned slowly to look at Miranda, whose blue eyes were ice. 

“Ok, time for you to go. Lose my number.” You said to your ex and then hesitated, unsure of how to get her out of the apartment and Miranda in without everything ending with you scrubbing blood out of your floor. “Miranda, come in.”

You stepped back, half blocking your ex from view, and Miranda stepped slowly, deliberately, through the door. 

“Are you seriously kicking me out for her?”

“Oh god, you really need to know when to stop talking,” you hissed. “Get the fuck out.”

“Fine,” she scoffed and pushed past you. “Give me a call when you’re done with this bitch, and I’ll-”

You didn’t find out what she might have done, because Miranda, swifter than you’d have imagined possible, slammed her face into the wall and then threw her bodily through your door with her nose bleeding, and probably broken. 

“You’ve outstayed your welcome,” Miranda spat through the open door, as your ex groaned from the floor. “Goodbye, bitch.”

The door slammed and Miranda turned to find you staring at her, glued to the spot, in shock. 

“Um… did that just-”

“You know, I made the effort of giving you a ‘heads up’, as you requested. The least you could do would have been to make sure you were waiting.”

“I… what heads up?” You frowned, confused. 

Her eyebrow quirked, and the chill faded a little, although you could still feel your stomach twisting. 

“Did you not receive a text from me?”

Pulling out your phone, you frowned. No new texts. Opening the app, your lips parted. 

“Shit… I… I was so tired when I read through them, I thought it was just another one of hers.”

“Your ex?”

“Mmm,” you looked back up and found her closer. You hadn’t heard her move and it startled you. “Fuck.”

“Yes, that is why I’m here.”

“You just broke my ex’s nose.”

“Yes. I’d have done worse but…” her gloved hand reached up and gripped your chin. “I was hoping to have an uncomplicated evening.”

“I can do that,” you whispered, hoarse. You could already feel yourself reacting to her; you had been waiting for her for too long without being able to satisfy your hunger. 

“Can you now,” she purred and your lips twitched into a smile even as she smirked. 

“Yes.”

“Did you wait, like I asked?”

“Yes. I haven’t…”

“Haven’t what?” She encouraged and you shivered. 

“I haven’t touched myself since that night.”

“Well, aren’t you good?”

“For you, yes.” She dropped the hand from your chin and you stepped forward, brushing your nose against hers. “Kiss me, Miranda. Please.”

Her smug smile tasted sweet against your lips as they brushed, and then she was devouring you as though it was her who had been waiting and wanting. 

It wasn’t just you who became frantic in the wake of that kiss, although you found yourself without the restraint and compliance that Miranda usually inspired. Your hands were on the buttons of her trousers before her fingers had finished tangling in your hair and she found her ass pressed against the back of the sofa. 

“Eager,” she gasped in your ear as you kissed along her jaw, frowning at the collar of her coat and the silk scarf in the way of your lips. 

“I want you.” You released the last button on her trousers and then started pulling off her coat. When you succeeded in pulling off the scarf, you were too preoccupied by her lips to take full advantage, and it was only as you pulled back, intending to drop to your knees, take off her trousers and bury your face between her thighs, that you saw the mark. “What the… what happened?”

It seemed tender and looked as though someone had tried to choke her with something thin. Certainly nothing you’d seen before and the way she suddenly became rigid suggested it wasn’t during a fun activity. 

“Nothing, carry on,” she panted, grabbing at your clothes and pulling you back to a crushing kiss. 

“It looks- Ow!” She had nipped your lip so hard that you couldn’t help but cry out, not having expected it. 

“Oh, poor baby,” she mocked. “I’ve done worse to you without a sound.”

She pulled off the gloves that covered her thin fingers and then started pulling at your top. 

“It looks like it hurts.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, yanking the top from your body and throwing it to the floor, leaving your bra on display. You took the hint, finally, and returned to kissing her, as your hands worked to push down her trousers. You sank to your knees, pulling them all the way down, fumbling to remove the boots and the trousers in one go. Then you were looking up and she was staring down at you and your breath caught. Her eyebrow arched and then you leaned in, kissing her thighs softly as you slowly edged them apart. She hooked one over your shoulder and you pressed a kiss into soft flesh before taking a leaf out of her book and biting. The strangled moan from above you made you chuckle and you turned to give the same treatment to the other thigh before hooking your hand under it and lifting it over your other shoulder. She moaned and you glanced up to see her gripping the back of the sofa hard, holding herself up on the edge with her thighs wrapped around you. 

You could smell her arousal, see it collecting against the material of her underwear, and you leaned forward to press a kiss to the fabric, before pressing your tongue against it to taste her. 

“Stop teasing,” she said roughly, one trembling hand tangling in your hair and yanking painfully. Still, as your wrapped your hands around her to hold her steady in her precarious position, you couldn’t help but nibble at her before pushing the fabric out of the way. 

She was as perfect as you remembered and as your took your first lick, she hissed and her nails scratched your scalp. You moaned into her and pressed your tongue into her, lapping at her desperately. Her thighs twitched and then tightened around your head, and every time you licked up to suck at her clit, she jerked her hips into your face as though she wanted to ride you again. You chuckled and sucked harder, sending a thrill through her that left her lips in a gasp. 

“Fuck!” Her voice was hoarse, throaty and even though it was muffled by her thighs, it made you wetter. “More!”

You nipped at her clit and then moved one hand to slide two fingers into her, curling them towards your as you sucked on her clit again. The intrusion made her moan and she rocked into you again, until you were sure she might fall from the sofa. So you withdrew, although the hand in your hair gave you very little room to move. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked through gritted teeth. 

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her wetness. 

“Moving so you can ride my face properly, since that’s obviously what you want.” She dragged you away from her and studied you, still a little breathless, before nodding and releasing your hair. You stood, knees sore from the floor, and leaned in to kiss her. She stopped you by gripping your chin. 

“Bedroom, now.”

“Yes ma’am,” you teased, grinning. You saw the twitch of her lips and bit your lip, drawing her eyes to it. She leaned in and kissed you hard, bruising your lips, and bit your lip. You hissed as she caught the spot she had made sore earlier, but your fingers pressed into her hips. She released you and you grinned, hooking your hand into her shirt and pulling her towards you as you stepped back, heading for the bedroom. The smirk on her face told you that you were no doubt going to be in trouble for being so cheeky since this started, but you didn’t mind at all. 

You sat on the bed, pulling yourself up as she dropped her pants and crawled after you, straddling your hips as you sat up to kiss her again. Your hands held her hips, skating upwards and under her shirt as you pressed your face into the top of her breasts. She buried her fingers in your hair again, scratching at your scalp and making you moan into her. You pushed the shirt up, wanting to have her completely naked against you; her hands detained you. 

“Please,” you murmured, lifting your head to look at her. “Let me see you. Let me touch you.”

She frowned down at you but slowly moved her hands and allowed you to remove it. It didn’t take much and as you dropped it off the bed, you marvelled at her body. Strong and slim, with a softness in some places that made you smile; you couldn’t help but run your hands up her stomach, cupping her waist under her ribcage and pressed a kiss there, under her bra. Your hands moved around, slowly, and unhooked her bra, which you removed reverantly. 

She was bare to you and, after a moment of hesitation so brief that you wondered if you had imagined it, she arched an eyebrow and visibly straightened, daring you to want her. And god you did. 

You buried your hand in her hair and kissed her hard, allowing nails to scratch up her ribs and then you were cupping her breast, grazing your thumb over her pert, rosy nipple, making her moan into your mouth. 

Your lips peppered her jaw, moving softly over her throat, brushing only the very edge of the mark to avoid causing her pain, and then you sucked at her collarbone, nipping the skin, before moving down to her free breast. Capturing the nipple between your teeth, you pulled and then sucked it into your mouth as your hand rolled the other between your fingers. She rocked against you, and you could feel the wetness of her against your thigh. Groaning, you rolled your tongue over her nipple and then swapped to the other, moving your hands to rake down her back. 

“Fuck!” She hissed and then you were being pushed down to the bed and she was holding you there. “I think you’ve had enough play time, don’t you?”

“I could tease you all night,” you grinned. A low, disbelieving chuckle escaped her lips and then she was climbing up your body to straddle your face again. The familiarity of her arousal, glistening inches from your mouth, made you moan, deep and low. “Or I could just-”

She pressed into you and you welcomed her with a willing tongue, feeling her rocking into your touch and making you slick with her. You wrapped your arms around her hips, not tight enough to stop her from moving, but enough to pull her impossibly close so you could taste every inch. The sharp intake of breath above you made you moan into her and you doubled your efforts, watching her as close as you could. You watched as she bit her lip, gasped and then leaned forward, gripping the head of the bed tightly. She had her eyes shut and you desperately hoped she would open them. You wanted to see her, seeing you. 

Her eyes fluttered open as she gasped and locked to yours. You sucked on her clit and watched as they grew stormy and her pupil threatened to swallow the blue whole. She let out a cry and you watched as her entire back arched and her head was thrown back, out of sight, as she rode out the orgasm that had suddenly exploded through her body. You guided her through it, not willing to release her yet, collecting every last drop of her that you could. 

She quivered and collapsed, falling to the side and you turned, grinning, to look at her. She was staring at the ceiling, still breathing heavily, and you reached out your fingers to ghost across her stomach, tracing freckles and scars. Then, as her breathing evened out and you sensed her about to pull away from your touch, you leaned in and took her earlobe between your teeth. 

“Fuck me, Miranda… please.”

You explored the place under her ear, letting your tongue create patterns between nibbles and kisses, and heard a low chuckle as you moved to her neck. 

“Is this you being persuasive?” 

“I can be more persuasive,” you hummed, biting at her jaw. “If it means that you’ll touch me.”

“Oh really?” In one swift movement she pinned you to the bed again, studying you. “I wasn’t planning on tonight going this way.”

“It seems like your plans being disrupted always ends up being a good thing for me, if that first night is anything to go by.” You glanced down at yourself. “I’m overdressed; you could start with that?”

“Oh so you’re going to be cheeky, are you?” She tweaked your nipple through your bra and you hissed in a breath. 

“At this point I’d be whatever you wanted,” you winked. “I am so, so wet for you.”

Her eyes darkened and flicked to your lips, and then she was kissing you, hard. You arched into her and moaned as her tongue demanded entrance. Her nails scraped down your stomach, making you groan into her mouth and then her hand was slipping under the waistband of your shorts and finding out how thoroughly wet you were. 

“My, my…” She grinned against your lips as your hips writhed, desperate for her touch to go beyond the hovering lightness it offered now. “You really are soaked, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in her hair and kissing her as though it were a request. “Please.”

She entered you hard, her fingers rough and strong, and you clenched around them with a gasp. 

“Is this what you want?” She rasped, curling her fingers until you arched, panting. 

“Yes… god yes.”

She chuckled and then you felt her lips moving down your throat, sucking and biting. You knew she was leaving marks, but as you were fucked roughly towards the edge, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. She bit and sucked your pulse point and then her thumb brushed your clit, making you cry out, hard. 

“Don’t come,” she ordered roughly in your ear, before she ground her palm into your clit. A strangled cry escaped you and you reached up to wrap your arms around her, to anchor yourself, and raked your nails down her back for a little revenge. “Fuck! Careful, kitten!”

You practically purred at the nickname until she pulled her fingers sharply from you, leaving you suddenly empty and unfulfilled. 

“FUCK!” You cried, looking up at her desperately. “Why?”

“I should just leave you like this, really.”

“No!” You cried, clinging to her. You couldn’t tell if she was playing or not, but the idea of being left in this state without being able to finish yourself off almost made you cry. “Please!”

“Hmmm,” she hummed and then her lips were on yours again. “You’re fun when you beg.”

Her fingers entered you again and you gasped at the added intrusion from an extra finger. She cackled and then set a punishing pace, leaving you panting and gasping and aching for something that you weren’t yet allowed to have. You could feel yourself building, beginning to clench around her fingers and you wondered how bad the punishment for coming without her permission would be. 

“Miranda-” you gasped, desperate. “Please, I-”

She bent down, kissed you hard and then rasped in your ear. 

“Come for me.”

With a last gasp, you shattered into a thousand pieces under the instruction of her skillful fingers, vaguely aware that you were screaming her name amidst the garbled expletives escaping you. You weren’t sure how long you had been arched off the bed, but falling back to it sent you quivering as she stroked you through the last waves of your orgasm. 

“Oh god…” 

“Good girl,” she hummed, slowly pulling her fingers from you. 

You leaned up and kissed her, tangling your fingers in her hair, still trembling. She nibbled at your lip and then pulled away, leaving you straining after her. 

“You’re leaving?”

She looked down at you with an arched eyebrow, and you held your breath. 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

You sat up slowly, reaching for her. 

“Thank fuck for that.”


End file.
